


Addicted to you

by TheWeirdDane



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Cunnilingus, Drugged Sex, Drugs, Established Relationship, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Rape/Non-con Elements, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, because of the drugs, i havent tried any drugs so idk if this is a true representation but i tried, the drugs aren't like lethal or anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 11:45:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15630036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeirdDane/pseuds/TheWeirdDane
Summary: A few months after the peaceful android revolution, you're in a steady relationship with an RK900 model. One night, you're out in town, and when RK900 suddenly kisses you, you know something is up - RK900 doesn't do kisses unless you're already IN the act.





	Addicted to you

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags carefully!

When he hauls you in for a kiss, you _know_ something is wrong. RK900 doesn’t do kisses, let alone initiates them.

The kiss is fierce, and his lips are warm and soft. Velvety, even.

You squirm in his grip, but he’s infinitely much stronger than you. Possessing an inhuman strength, it’s the easiest thing in the world for him to keep you still against his sturdy, non-moving chest. Unlike the RK800 model Connor, RK900 doesn’t simulating breathing to soothe his companions.

You want to cuss him out, but you’re cleverer than that - you are not going to allow him access to your mouth. Not more than he already got.

Butt even his tongue is stronger than should be humanly possible, and he wrestles your lips apart to push it into the cavity of your mouth. You’re mortified when you can’t hold back a moan, and you struggle harder to get out of his grip.

It’s no use, of course. He’s got you precisely where he wants - in a bar, full of strangers. Humans and androids alike, the place is buzzing with sounds and impressions that threaten to overwhelm you. Nobody notices the two of you - after the revolution, android-human relationships aren’t uncommon.

His tongue brushes against yours, and it’s so impossibly wet. It’s wetter than normal, and for a second, you wonder about the reason _why_.

After a few seconds, you feel your body getting heavy. Not quickly, not instantly, but gradually, as he keeps kissing you, a hand firm on the back of your neck to keep you in place.

“Oh,” you whisper against his lips, and you can _feel_ the smug smile that curls onto his face. Your breathing turns deeper, and your struggling to get free morphs into you struggling to hang onto him. He looks so pleased with himself, thin lips twitching up into a smirk as he pulls back slowly, ever so slowly. His eyes glisten in the rapidly flashing lights, and you know that look. Predatory. Hungry. Intense. So intense you can feel it bore into your soul.

“’Oh’ indeed, little you,” he murmurs and slides the hand from the back of your neck to the small of your back, keeping you close to him at all times, “you’re not looking well. May I suggest we take a cab home?”

You nod weakly, clinging to him. To everyone else, it must look like the two of you hooked up and are now heading home for a steamy roll in the hay.

Heavens know it would be steamy alright.

RK900 holds you upright as you stumble. He opens the door for you, and he calls a cab that arrives just two minutes later.

If he hadn’t just drugged you, he would have been considered a gentleman.

Probably.

Maybe.

In the cab, your skin starts feeling too tight. It feels like your bones are suddenly too big, like you’re stretching and stretching and growing ever bigger. At the same time, you notice how you’re beginning to perspire. Your forehead glistens with sweat, and when you lift a hand to wipe it, RK900 catches your wrist and places it by his mouth, eyes wild and hungry as they look into yours.

“What did you give me?” you whisper and close your eyes. You feel exhausted, like you’ve been running a marathon.

“Nothing that will harm you, I assure you,” he says, and it’s the least reassuring thing in the world when he continues, “but it will cause intense arousal, verging on the unbearable. The effects shouldn’t last longer than a few hours or so.”

_Shouldn’t._ You sure hope he’s right - it would be the worst thing to have to deal with this for longer than absolutely necessary. Although… the heaviness of your body is starting to feel nice. Comforting, even.

‘And,’ you muse to yourself as the cab comes to a halt in front of your house, ‘if he wants some fun, who am I to deny him that?’

The cab door opens, and RK900 assists you out of the vehicle. Your feet feel so heavy, like two huge blocks of concrete have been strapped to your ankles. Your voice is slightly slurred when you ask him to open the front door, but he does it without questioning, and you’re pretty sure he would have done it without the prompting, too.

He’s patient with you as you walk up the pathway to the porch, but even your drugged mind notices the urgency in his steps, the strong grip of his hand on your arm and the small of your back, the soft sigh when you slump against the door frame. You would honestly be content to never move again.

But he drags you into the house and slams the door shut behind you, locking it in one fluid motion before he crowds you against the wall.

“Now, what do we have here,” he murmurs and presses up against you, his body oh so warm and strong. His elbows rest on either side of your head, his face hovering mere inches from yours. Your noses almost touch. _Now_ he simulates heavy breathing, and the warm air rolls against your face in slow waves.

It feels good. Even if you’re already so warm, even if you feel like you’re sweating like a horse, the hot air sends chills down your spine, and you can’t help but let out a faint moan.

RK900 smiles, no, _grins_ , and it’s a wolfish one, would scare anyone but you. But you… you’re drugged out of your mind, and you have a feeling that anything he did to you would turn you on.

It’s only when he reaches a hand down to touch you between your legs that you realize just _how_ turned on you already are.

And it’s simply mortifying.

You tell yourself that it’s the drug. You tell yourself you wouldn’t normally be this wet, not normally be this turned on.

But who are you trying to fool? You know you’re head over heels in love with this stoic, scary-looking android who has just slipped you a euphoric aphrodisiac.

You’re in love with his strong hands - when they’re around your throat, when they hold your legs open, when they card through your hair - and his hard and hauntingly beautiful grey-blue eyes - the way they glisten, the way they always slide to yours to check that you’re _truly_ okay with the current act, the way the surrounding area crinkles just the slightest bit when he smiles - and the deep timber of his voice - how it speaks your name, how it _orders_ you to do whatever he wants, how it makes your insides tighten into a knot.

“A poor helpless damsel in distress,” he breathes against your cheek and lowers his head to mouth at your jaw, and you can’t hold back a crisp gasp. Nor can you hold back your hips as they stutter into his hand still buried between your legs, begging for more.

His hand leaves your crotch and smooths over your hip, earning him a pitiful whine. He chuckles, low and deep and oh so _dangerous_.

You vaguely register the way your hands feel like lead when you try to lift them to his head. But they only get about halfway before they feel too heavy, hanging limply alongside your body once more. He chuckles again, the warm breath now ghosting against your neck, and he kisses the skin almost tenderly. It could almost be called gentle and careful.

Right until he applies more pressure and sinks his teeth into your skin.

You cry out in pleasure mixed with just a pinch of pain. Your every nerve ending is _on fire_ , and your too tight skin feels like it’s shrinking further. It becomes uncomfortable, and you whimper quietly, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“I sense you’re suffering from a great deal of distress,” RK900 says and peels himself off your body, looking at you with darkened eyes.

“Too… too hot,” you croak and tug at your shirt, “skin is… too tight. Hurts.”

“Shame you can’t peel away your skin like I can.” His voice is smug, and you want to punch him, but you know you don’t have the power to. Instead, you sigh, and he leans in to kiss you, his lips hungry and fierce, stealing the kiss before you can even protest.

Not that you would, though. You’re shamefully aware of how good he feels, how satisfying his touches are, but it’s not _enough_. You crave more, more, more, and you swear you’re going to kill him if he doesn’t give it to you soon.

Sensing your frustration, he pulls back and tugs your shirt over your head, going for your bra next. He nearly rips it in half in his attempts to unlock it, and there’s something hilarious in that. State-of-the-art android, the best that CyberLife has to offer, can’t even open a goddamn bra.

This sends you into a snickering fit, which clearly pisses RK900 off. His hand is immediately at your throat, knocking your head back against the wall, and he looks at you with those dangerous, calculating eyes of his.

“I,” he says, voice low and _thrilling_ , “would appreciate it if you did not laugh at my actions.” The hand squeezes your throat firmly, turning your breathing labored and shallow. It’s so good.

The first time he had done it, you had been scared as hell, but after realizing he wouldn’t _actually_ kill you, it had been pure lust. The reasonable voice in your head had screamed that this wasn’t okay, wasn’t normal, but another part of you had been so far gone that you hadn’t listened.

Instead, you had taken his other hand and placed it between your thighs, whimpering softly as his long, dexterous fingers pressed against you.

“Oh,” he had said, and he had sounded _almost_ surprised to find you starting to get wet.

After that, he had done it at every single opportunity. A hand on your throat, on the back of your neck, guiding you to do whatever it was he wanted.

Now, it’s just to tease you, to feel your throat bob slightly when you swallow something heavy. His other hand between your legs slides back and forth slowly, and you’re helpless but to whimper and close your eyes.

“Keep your eyes open,” RK900 orders and brushes his thumb over the front of your throat slowly, almost tenderly, while his other hand toys with your crotch.

It seems to take all the power you have in you to obey him, but you do open your eyes and find his, locking your gaze on him. You realize your lips have fallen open, and now his thumb traces your bottom lip, making you shiver and whine longingly.

“Please, don’t tease,” you whisper and buck your hips into his hand, shamefully aware of how wet you are. You’re practically dripping through your pants, and if you looked down, you wouldn’t be surprised to find a stained spot on the front of them.

“I do what I want,” is his answer, “and I take what I want.”

Yet he’s kind enough to push his hand down into your pants and under your underwear, kind enough to let his slender fingers fondle your clit and make you break out in a loud, pathetic whimper. You clumsily spread your legs to allow him further access, and he laughs roughly against your lips before claiming them in a rough and fierce kiss.

But he isn’t kind enough to let you come.

You’re so fucking close when he withdraws his hand, and you weakly bang your hand against the wall behind you, whimpering. He merely laughs.

“You appear in need of sexual release.”

“Fuck you,” you whisper feebly and have the audacity to bite his lower lip. Despite being so focused on your own arousal, on the way your skin crawls and how your body is on _fire_ , you don’t fail to notice how he shivers. It’s not very visible, but it’s there.

He smiles, sickly sweet and intimidating all at once.

“Oh, we’ll get to that part,” he murmurs against your lips, “right now, in fact.”

His hand on your throat moves to the back of your neck, and he leads you into the living room where he pushes you against the couch. Stumbling and just barely finding your balance, you curse at him, but it’s still weak and without much bite.

With one hand on the back of the couch, steadying yourself, you glower at him. He smiles smugly back.

“Remove your clothes,” he says and starts undressing himself. First, he shucks off the jacket before loosening his shirt and that ridiculous high closed collar of his. Then he shimmies out of his pants, motions fluid and perfect and not fumbling or hesitating in the slightest. All his clothes are folded neatly and put on the nearest chair.

You are more unsteady and fumble with the fly of your pants, but he doesn’t come to your aid. Instead, he chuckles lowly and steps closer to stroke your throat and the back of your neck. He leans in to kiss you. He makes your brain even more hazy and fuzzy, stroking and kissing you at the same time you fumble with your pants. Not exactly making matters easier.

“Experiencing issues executing the command?” he asks, voice a low murmur against your lips, and his hands are on your hips, driving you positively mad.

“S-Shut up,” you mumble and finally, _finally_ , manage to find the fly and pull it down so you can push down your pants. Your fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, about to discard those as well, but his hand on your wrist stops you.

“Allow me to properly appreciate your appearance,” he says and pulls back, and there’s… _something_ in his eyes when they inspect you, from your face to your naked breasts, down over your chubby stomach to your still clothed crotch.

He licks his lips. Clearly likes what he sees, his LED circling yellow before settling for a comforting blue.

“Appearance appreciated,” he reports and closes the space between you to hook his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tug them down. You shudder when his fingers - long, thin, dexterous - grace your thighs, and it doesn’t pass him by.

He chuckles and makes you step out of your clothes. These he doesn’t fold neatly, instead lets them be a mess on the floor. You’re gripping the back of the couch tightly, trying not to lose your footing while also focusing on the way your throat feels too tight, your skin being stretched too wide over your bones, how you sweat despite the merciful air-conditioner in your living room, how you can’t seem to look away from the android.

RK900 effortlessly pushes you over the back of the couch to make you land on the soft cushions with a grunt. A mere second later - or that’s how it feels to you - he’s on top of you, kissing you firmly. His lips slide so perfectly against yours, and you know he’s been analyzing your previous kisses to satisfy you.

And damn if he doesn’t deliver.

Your body is limp and heavy, and your lips tingle, feel like they’re spinning. Everything feels like it’s spinning, and you manage to lift your hands just enough to grab his waist. You need to feel something firm and heavy beneath your fingers to make sure you’re not _actually_ spinning.

Yet everything is fuzzy, and you’re dizzy. So, you close your eyes to steady yourself, and this time, RK900 doesn’t order you to keep them open. Instead, he nibbles at your lower lip and lets his tongue slide over them before he forcefully shoves it inside your mouth. His tongue rubs against your own, going slowly over your teeth, as if counting them, before sliding over your tongue again.

It’s still so very wet, and you can feel spit seep down your chin. It’s wrong and disgusting, and it’s so _good_.

“Nines,” you whimper when he pulls back, catching artificial breath that he doesn’t need.

“Yes?”

You shake your head and open your eyes to look at him. His elbows are on either side of your head, his nose brushing against yours. His lips mere inches away.

You try to lean up to kiss him, but you’re too heavy. Your hands fall onto the cushions again, and RK900 snickers.

“Oh, look at you. So helpless. So absolutely helpless.” There’s a tight edge to his voice, and there’s an eagerness to his fingers as he reaches down between your legs to run them over your dripping wet folds and clit. Your entire body jerks with the pleasure that shoots down your spine, and a raspy moan leaves your mouth.

His fingers expertly find the little nub and circle it slowly, applying more pressure only to plunge two fingers inside you while his thumb presses against the small bud. Your lips fall open in a wide gasp that carries no sound, and weakly, your fingers dig into the cushions of the couch.

You feel everything so intensely, and the way his fingers thrust in and out of you, the way they crook and press against your inner walls, the way they reach so _deeply_ within you - it’s all so much, _too_ much, and you want to cry.

Your fingers quickly lose their strength, and it doesn’t take long before you can only lie on the couch and take what he gives you, feeling it all so wildly. The fire in your veins, hotter and faster than a wildfire, the slowly subsiding spinning feeling, the jolts and jerks of your body as arousal fills you. The warmth that leaves you sweating and panting in an attempt to ventilate yourself; it begins in your chest and crawls into your arms and down your stomach, clutching your organs tightly and making your cunt convulse almost violently.

“You’re so excited,” he whispers against your lips, and you want to curse at him, but when you try, no sound comes out, and he continues, sounding as smug and self-confident as ever, “so wet and excited. Can you hear the sounds you make?”

And you can, embarrassingly much so. His fingers thrust in and out of you with loud squelching sounds, and it’s so humiliating that the desire to cry grows tenfold.

Yet, it isn’t bad. Far from. It’s so insanely hot, and your first orgasm comes out of nowhere.

It hits you like a freight train, making you gasp and arch your back the small bit you can, and all the warmth in your body seems to intensify. It becomes unbearable, too much, oh way too much, and you pant and moan as your hips roll on their own accord, begging him not to stop.

And he doesn’t. His fingers keep thrusting in and out of you even as your orgasm peaks and leave you a trembling, panting mess, and he doesn’t slow down when you start whimpering.

He keeps fingerfucking you for a few minutes after reaching your first climax, then he withdraws.

Looking down at you, he puts his fingers to his lips and lets his tongue sweep out to meet them. Giving them a few licks, he pushes his fingers completely into his mouth. His eyelids flutter momentarily, twitching, and then his eyes are on your face again, watching you like a hawk.

You can’t do anything but look back at him, your cunt aching and throbbing and needing more, more, _more_. You’re so desperate to relieve yourself of the hotness, the constant, painful arousal, and your hips start pushing against him again.

He laughs.

“Ready for more, I take it?”

You nod, and you’re sure you can feel a few tears stream down your face as the tightness in your stomach grows tighter still. It’s like a knot where someone is pulling from both ends, and you whimper hoarsely, in desperate need of him continuing his evil scheme.

RK900 looks at you, long and hard, and slides down your body to place his head between your legs. One has fallen off the couch, hanging limply, with the foot resting on the carpet.

“Nines…” It’s a whisper so breathy you doubt you ever made it, and you try to lift your hand to put it into his hair - chocolate brown and impeccable, always so neat - but it’s futile. Your body is too heavy, and the only thing that happens is that your fingers twitch lightly.

He doesn’t deign your whisper a reply, though you _know_ he’s heard it, instead starts pressing kisses against your inner thighs.

They start out sweet and innocent - lips lightly pressing against your skin and making the nerves and muscles twitch. His lips slide easily over the flesh, his arms curled around your thighs.

After some time, however, there’s a hunger to the kisses, an eagerness, and he starts kissing with his teeth instead of his lips. Teeth that sink into your flesh and make you whimper, make you yelp. Teeth that drag over the skin and force out goosebumps. Teeth that bites hard enough to leave marks.

His hands haul you closer against his face, and he steadily bites and kisses towards your cunt. You writhe weakly, fingers pressing against the cushions. You feel so wound up, like a spring that’s been pressed too tightly together, and the knot in your stomach is far from loosened when his lips brush over your clit.

It rips a broken sound from your lips, and your hips stutter against his face. RK900’s hands - so strong and soft - rest on your hips and press them down against the cushions as he starts eating you out. His tongue darts out to trail along your lips, and it’s done so slowly, ever so slowly, and you want to scream.

You open your mouth to scream, and the only sound that comes out is another broken sob, and more tears stream down your face.

Your second orgasm makes your body shudder, and you gasp loudly, weakly gripping at the couch cushions. You just barely manage to whimper out “Nines!” as the orgasm hits, and his tongue moves to your clit, circling and pressing against the small nub and making you sob, making your thighs and fingers twitch.

He keeps eating you out as another orgasm wrecks your body, but even with so much pleasure, your skin is still too tight, and your body is too warm, and your intestines are all curled up in a knot so tight it _hurts_. It reaches a point where you become too sensitive, and you can’t take it anymore, so you try to inch away from him, but the strength of his hands combined with your body’s heaviness result in you not moving a muscle.

“Stop,” you manage to ask, and he chuckles lowly before pulling back, licking his lips. He looks down at you like a wolf might eye its prey. There’s a hungry, dangerous glint in them, and he leans down over you, pressing you against the couch. In your drugged-out state, it’s the best feeling in the world, and you breathe out a shaky moan as his weight land on top of you.

One of his hands is fondling your cunt, fingertips rubbing your clit in slow, firm circles, and your body writhes the slight bit it can, trying to squirm away.

“Amount of drug unsatisfactory. You can still move far too much,” he muses to himself.

Then his weight moves away, and you let out a pitiful whine. He chuckles darkly and traces your figure with his other hand.

“Don’t worry, little one, I’ll take good care of you.” His voice is soft and too kind, too warm, and you know he’s going to fuck you into oblivion and not care if he does it too rough.

You close your eyes tightly and feel tears steadily leak down your cheeks. It’s all so much, _too much_ , yet it’s not _enough_ , and you find yourself wishing, desperately praying, that RK900 will hurry the fuck up.

He doesn’t leave you hanging.

RK900 moves back between your legs and hauls them on either side of his body while adjusting his cock - as normal-looking as any human cock - so he can slide inside you.

It goes so easily, so smoothly, and his cock - slightly thicker than average, dripping with a fluid you don’t have the mental capacity to ask about - makes you feel fuller than ever before. You know it’s the drug talking, but you can’t remember having felt this good. Everything is so fucking amazing, and the way his cock thrust into you makes you gasp and choke out sob-like sounds, your fingers twitching on the cushions, your toes curling.

“Nines,” you whisper, and your voice is so hoarse, so broken, and you can feel how it makes his cock twitch. He loves it when you’re nothing but a broken toy, when you can’t do anything but take his cock, his fingers, anything he wants.

“Yes?” he asks, and he sounds like himself, perfectly put-together and in control.

You don’t respond, simply keep on whispering his name like a mantra, like it’s the thing that will save you from eternal damnation.

In return, he starts fucking you in earnest, hooking your legs around his waist and slamming into you with a strength you fear will dislocate your hips.

But your hips remain in place and tightly connected to the rest of your skeleton.

Unable to tire out, he fucks you relentlessly and through several orgasms. It’s only during your sixth - seventh? - orgasm that he starts to seem affected.

You’re limp and boneless, and you literally cannot do anything else than lie on the couch and let him fuck you, his cock ramming deep inside you at a merciless pace.

He does pant now, attempting to ventilate himself and prevent overheating, and his eyes are still hard on your face. The trails of tears are ever fresh.

RK900 comes without warning, and his hips stutter, his voice a static, fuzzy mess as his cum spurts into you and fills your cunt. You haven’t got the mental capacity to register the feeling, only know that your cunt is currently swimming in cum - RK900 always releases so much of it, loves seeing the mess it makes and how it makes you squirm.

Now, though, you can’t squirm, you can’t wriggle or writhe, can only lie on your back and feel how he fills you. He lets out a single groan, soft and quiet but very real, and leans down to kiss you while still thrusting.

It’s a sloppy and imperfect kiss, and it vaguely registers in your brain that he must be more affected with the act than he lets on, otherwise it would be perfect.

But who cares about perfect kisses when something like this happens?

You both lie on the couch for a little while, you catching your breath and RK900 going flaccid again.

Your body is still on fire, your breathing still too quick, and your arousal is still too strong. Every little touch that he gives you makes your nerves scream for more, more, _more_.

When he lifts himself off you, he can see it clearly in your eyes. A snicker leaves his mouth, and he touches your clit again, nothing more than a light ghosting of his fingertips, and you gasp weakly.

“The night is still young,” he whispers and continues toying with you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed <3


End file.
